


Inveigle

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Regis survives a council meeting.
Relationships: Regis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Inveigle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for MistressofLions’ “Ignis or Nyx, writers choice, are going about their business but with their necks bared and whenever they have to address Regis they flaunt the redblue marks that Regis left. I kinda want to see Regis in a council meeting with either of them showing off their throat, and Regis in the middle of said meeting can do nothing more, than softly growl and keep his hand over his mouth to hide the fact that his fangs are out because he's turned on.” request on [my dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Regis has half a mind to take his son’s advisor and bend the lovely creature right over his knee, then employ the sort of old-school punishment that would normally make him ill. Normally, Ignis Scientia is one of the most respectable, diplomatic, _well behaved_ civilians under Regis’ sweeping command. He knows that Ignis would _never_ disobey him. Usually, Ignis even anticipates his orders before they’ve been given, like how he’s worn high collars ever since the first night that they spent together. For whatever reason, he’s chosen today to resort to flagrant, wanton temptation. 

Not only does his jacket not have an upstanding collar, but the sweater beneath it is a v-neck that dips low down his collarbone, exposing a wide swatch of pale skin. His long neck is completely on display, including the two little puncture wounds from the last time Regis had him, now purpling and healing over. They’ll be gone soon, and Regis will bruise in other ones, as well as finger marks down Ignis’ trim sides, because clearly he’ll have to be _rough_ , have to teach Ignis a proper lesson about just how dangerous it is to taunt a Caelum in public. 

Seemingly unaware of the inner turmoil he’s causing, Ignis clears his throat and answers Chancellor Edea. “Unfortunately, His Highness has scheduling conflicts this semester. The University has offered to rearrange their classes accordingly, but Prince Noctis felt, and I agree, that that would be an irresponsible use of power.”

Edea nods thoughtfully, though next to her, Seymour looks displeased. Given that they seem to be discussing his own son, Regis should really enter the conversation, but instead, he allows Ignis to talk unimpeded. Ignis is sitting right next to him, close enough to smell his rich cologne. Regis hears Ignis’ words, the elegant lilt of his voice, the interesting, exotic accent that twists his every syllable. But most of Regis’ concentration falls on Ignis’ plush lips and the slight flush below his jaw. 

“I have convinced him to retake political sciences. His previous grade will be expunged from the record for whatever he should achieve after this year’s exam. I will see to it personally that he passes this time. He is naturally intelligent, it’s simply a matter of applying himself at this point.”

Several of the councilors nod thoughtfully. Regis should _care_ what marks his child receives, but all he can see are the marks along Ignis’ throat. He vividly remembers biting into it, clamping down, feeling Ignis’ warm pulse raise beneath him and bubble up to fill his mouth. Ignis would tense, then go limp in his arms, surrendering completely, whimpering deliciously and so _beautiful_. A quiet growl rips out of Regis’ throat before he can stop it. 

He quickly coughs, covering it up. Kuja glances towards him, eyes lingering, and Regis knows at once what’s wrong. He lifts his hand to cover his mouth, trying to appear thoughtful, really just shielding the sight of his fangs. The council shouldn’t see them. They only emerge when he’s aroused, which Ignis seems to be working hard to do. As another councilor begins to speak, Ignis lifts a hand to his neck, brushing back to the short hairs at his nape. When his fingertips graze the enflamed flesh around his fading wounds, Regis’ teeth grit together. He feels _feral_ again. He knows this isn’t what his magic is for. He’s meant to _guard_ the crystal, not unleash its wild energy in a thrilling hunt, but he wants nothing more than to pounce and to pin Ignis to the floor. It would be so very _easy_. Ignis finally turns to him, eyes full of innocence and depth, and asks, “Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”

Regis answers, “No.” He says it swift but harsh: an immediate dismissal. His council recognizes it for what it is. They each bow and rise from their seats, and Ignis would too, except Regis reaches under the table and slaps a hand over his inner thigh. Ignis’ breath hitches. He stays seated.

The rest leave, and Regis nods for even his guards to follow. Their boots echo across the long hall, taking torturously long, until the grand doors are finally closed.

Then Ignis breathes, “I am at your service, my king.” And Regis finally allows his fangs to show.


End file.
